Fic: Long Lost (Long Last) - Chapter 13
Alright, here we go. Please, no one shoot me for this one. I have my reasons for this. I do.
Title: Long lost (Long last)
Rating: K+
Pairing/Genre: Jane/Lisbon, friendship/romance
Summary: After a case involving obscure hobbies, Jane decides to bring back the long lost art of letter-writing. In spite of his best efforts, he only manages to secure a single correspondant
Chapter 13
xxx
Over the next few weeks, the letters between Lisbon and Jane flowed fairly frequently as he made his way south. Lisbon tried very hard not to focus on the fact that he was traveling towards Sacramento again. Unless he veered off course he couldn`t miss it.
But she didn`t want to think about that.
Instead she focussed on her letters, both sent and received.
x
Mount Shasta, California
Dear Lisbon,
Congratulations on acting as an accessory to scaring the life out of a fifteen year old. You must feel very proud. Oddly enough, when I congratulated Annie on her date, she wasn`t impressed with me. Apparently I am both an annoying know-it-all and an idiot. I would have thought those two were mutually exclusive, but I digress.
It’s nice to hear you talk about your family. You sound happy. I’m glad.
I saw an elephant yesterday. No, not at the state fair. At a zoo, just for a change. It cost an exorbitant amount to gain entrance, but I enjoyed myself in the end. So there is that. The visit passed the time.
Unfortunately, sometimes I don’t quite know what to do with myself or my time.
-Jane
x
Lisbon could give him a few suggestions for that last problem, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. So she simply wrote back.
As she always did.
x
Dear Jane,
Wasn’t half the point of this trip or yours to find out what to do with yourself? Give it time.
I’m sorry. I know that advice is trite. But I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what you want me to say.
Or, if you’re getting frustrated, maybe try meditation or something.
Did you look at the monkeys at the zoo? You should have if you didn’t. I think you’d find kindred spirits there. Hey! Maybe they’d provide you with some answers...
Did I mention that I’m going to Tommy’s for Christmas? It’s just going to be the three of us, me, Tommy and Annie. But I think it’ll be good. Really good. Tommy won’t tell me what to bring though. Keeps saying he has everything under control. And he probably does. It’s not like I’m a gourmet cook anyway, but I still want to contribute, you know? Maybe I’ll bring a dessert or something. You can never have too much dessert at Christmas.
So I won’t be in Sacramento over Christmas. Apparently the Lisbon family’s planning for the holidays early this year. Not that early though, not even two months to go. I’ll have to figure out Christmas presents...
I don’t suppose Annie’s mentioned something she absolutely has to have this year in her texts?
-Lisbon
x
Redding, California
Dear Teresa,
Don’t ask me what you should tell me. You’ve always told me exactly what you thought of me. I seem to recall any number of insults hurled in my direction over the years. Don’t change now. I don’t want you to say anything, except what you think. I’m not writing to you so you can tell me what you think I want to hear. That’s not the point of the letters. I want to hear from you.
They don’t need to be about my problems either. I just want to hear something.
I want to read what you think about things. Your favourite books, Rigsby and Cho’s latest escapade, the romantic drama (or lack thereof) of the little Lisbon. That’s what I want.
That’s what I want you to write.
Have a wonderful Christmas with your family, Lisbon. You deserve it.
I think Annie’d be far more likely to tell you what she wants for Christmas than me. You’re cool Aunt Teresa after all. You’ll figure something out. I know you will.
-Jane
x
Dear Jane,
I bought Annie the watch she was coveting in the shop window on our last shopping trip. And I bought Tommy a new sweater and a box of saltwater taffy. He always loved that stuff.
Now I just have to figure out my other brothers and their families. And my other nieces and nephews. The lead up to the holidays is kind of exhausting, in a good kind of a way.
And if you want stories, well, I’ve somehow gotten talked into helping to tend our condo’s communal garden. It was absolutely ridiculous. The head of the condo association cornered me, and I wasn’t prepared. And well, let me start from the beginning.
I’d just gotten back from a case...
x
The letters continued to flow, as Jane inched southward, closer and closer to Sacramento.
Lisbon actually found herself getting almost anxious. Jane hadn’t mentioned anything about it (not that he would). Of course, neither had she.
He’d probably veer east at the last second missing the city altogether, or something equally idiotic.
She threw herself into work to distract herself. Well, work and making sure that the condo garden was 100% weed free. She knew that the battleaxe of a woman who was in charge of the building was pleased with her work, which only served to irritate Lisbon further.
Then, to her absolute relief, she got called away for a murder out of town. Far out of town.
She’d obsess about Jane’s extraordinarily slow travelling speed when she got back.
xxx
A few days later, Lisbon walked to her front door, ready to just collapse on her couch, or maybe her bed. Everything else could wait until the morning. It’d been a ridiculously long drive back to Sacramento, but at least they’d solved their case. She’d dropped Rigsby at his place before coming home, and she felt dead on her feet.
To add insult to injury, there hadn’t even been a letter in her mailbox to distract her. Lisbon tried not to be disappointed by that fact. She failed.
Resigned, she trudged towards her door. That was when she saw it.
There was a letter sitting on the floor, one corner poking out into the hall, the rest presumably in her apartment. It had no stamp, no postmark, no address, just her name scrawled across the front. Someone had obviously slipped it partway under her door. She knew exactly who that someone was. She’d been following his movements for months now.
And she knew his handwriting.
With a grin, Lisbon opened her door quickly, practically bouncing in.
Only to find that the inside of her condo quite obviously hadn’t been disturbed since she’d left it three days earlier. She could still see the single coffee cup sitting on her counter where she’d left it. All alone.
Lisbon told herself it was what she’d been expecting. She told herself it only made sense.
She told herself that she hadn’t expected him to have broken into her condo and made himself at home while he waited for her.
She told herself she hadn’t expected to see him waiting on her couch with a fresh pot of tea.
She didn’t even come close to convincing herself.
She almost didn’t open the letter in her anger - in many ways anger was easier to deal with than the other things flooding her brain.
What was wrong with him? He’d come to her town, even to her apartment. And he hadn’t stopped. He had nothing to do with his time. He’d said as much himself more than once. No appointments, no claims on him of any kind. He was driving around at random. He’d been in Sacramento, but for some reason couldn’t spare a day or two to stop and say hello? Maybe get a cup of coffee? Hell, she’d have paid for it.
But apparently not.
Apparently someone was too busy. Had to keep up his hectic schedule of driving aimlessly around California, brooding and looking at ridiculous tourist attractions and, and, and staring at trees.
What the hell?
Jerk.
Idiot.
Moron.
Oaf.
Fathead.
Pea-brained cretin.
Spineless cad.
Selfish bastard.
Self, selfish, selfish.
And stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid...
Lisbon paced back and forth between her living room and kitchen, alternating between practically foaming at the mouth and trying to convince herself that she shouldn’t be mad, that she wasn’t mad.
That everything was fine. (Except that it really wasn’t.)
In the end she gave in and opened the envelope. Her curiosity got the better of her.
x
Dear Teresa,
I’m sorry. I know you’re probably angry with me. I don’t blame you.
I don’t have a very good explanation for it. Not one that will satisfy you, I’d imagine. I just suddenly knew that I couldn’t see you. It would make everything more difficult, infinitely more difficult.
Don’t blame your case, or the fact that you were out of town. I knew that you were when I dropped this letter off (heard about it on the radio, as it happens). But, if you hadn’t been away on a case, I’d have dropped my note off at your place while you were at the office, or maybe just mailed it to you like all the others. The case just made things easier, gave me more of an excuse (albeit not a very good one, I know).
It’s nothing you did. I’m not angry with you, or punishing you, or anything else. Trust me when I say that this has nothing to do with anything but the problems in my own confused, messed up brain. Your letters seem to stabilize things, but seeing you... I don’t know. I just don’t know, and that’s the problem. (There are too many things that I don’t know.) Suddenly, I don’t think this north-south thing is working for me anymore. Maybe I’ll try heading east for a change.
But I couldn’t just leave the city without a word. That seemed cruel. (As opposed to what I did do, which is mainly selfish, or maybe self-preservation.).
Anyway...
Your building looks the same as ever, except that some of the trees are a little taller and I see that the sickly looking rosebush in the front has finally succumbed to its inevitable fate. The hydrangea that’s replaced it looks much hardier. I have high hopes for it.
I know, I know, the lightness isn’t helping. I really am sorry.
Hate me for this if you like. You certainly have the right to. You have the right to quite a bit more, actually. So very much more. I’ve never been particularly strong, particularly brave (that was always your job). I’m always so full of human frailty.
I’m so sorry.
I wish I could have seen you.
-Jane
x
Lisbon stared at the letter in her hands, a million feelings swirling around her brain. She couldn’t make head nor tail of them really; there were just too many.
Anger and irritation started to take precedence, mixed in with a healthy dollop of hurt.
She felt the urge to crumple Jane’s letter in a ball and fling it across the room. The only thing that stopped her was a small voice in the back of her brain, straining to be heard, pointing out that she’d always known Jane was really messed up. That he had about a decade of issues to go through. That she should have expected this. Maybe the fact that he was admitting something was wrong was a good sign.
It wasn’t much, but it stopped her from shredding the note.
It didn’t stop her from wanting to scream at him.
Since that wasn’t an option, Lisbon went with the next thing, grabbing a pen and piece of paper she began to write furiously.
x
Jane,
Maybe I’d have wanted your cockamamie explanation, did you ever think of that before you decided not to give it? Maybe it would have satisfied me. You don’t know me as well as you think you do. And even if you’re right, don’t you think I deserve to hear it?
Instead I got a few sentences about how this is hard for you. You don’t think I *know* this is hard for you? I have been nothing but supportive for months. Months, Jane. God. I wasn’t expecting you to show up and take me out for dinner or something, all cheerful and full of stories about your travels. But would a cup of coffee have killed you?
Would it? You were just complaining about having nothing to do with yourself, you idiot.
I think I would have preferred if you had just mailed the damn letter. At least then I could have pretended that you decided to drive around the city or something, instead of showing up on the other side of my damn door and deciding it wasn’t worth waiting a couple of days for me to come back.
You are a selfish bastard.
But I know that. I’ve always known that. And here’s a secret, most of the time, I don’t really mind all that much. Oh wait, you already knew that too. I bet you figured that out about a week after I met you. You arrogant ass. You knew exactly what type of boss I’d be. How long before you started manipulating me? Five minutes, maybe ten? Or was it less? Did you have some big grand plan? I hope I spoiled it.
Or, I don’t know. I don’t know if I meant that. But I’m not exactly sorry. I want to yell at you. And you did say that you wanted me to tell you things...
Damn, damn, damn, damn.
I know you’re trying to figure stuff out, and I hope to god you are. I really do. I don’t want to send you off into a tailspin (which apparently the sight of my face would have done. Awesome). Maybe this was a good decision for you. I don’t know. It seems like neither of us knows anything.
But this just, it... it... I’m angry with you for this. And I wanted you to know that.
Sometimes I just get so sick of being the one who always has to be sensible. I wish that rosebush was still in front of my building, and that you’d cut your hand on it. And then bled all over your stupid suit. And the stain refused to come out.
Maybe I don’t know what I want.
I’ll write to you again in a few days. Not now. Not just now.
-Lisbon
x
Very quickly, Lisbon addressed the letter (after a quick glance at her map to find a likely candidate city to send it to), jumped from her couch and ran downstairs to mail it instead of leaving it on her coffee table to drop into a mailbox in the morning. By the morning she’d have talked herself down, or maybe just become resigned to things and she wouldn’t send it. For some reason she wanted to send him this one. It felt important.
When she got back from her all-important trip to the post office, she just ran out of steam, crawling into her bed in exhaustion.
She’d figure it out tomorrow. She always did.
xxx
She didn’t figure it out the next day. Or even the day after that. She pretty much ignored it. That was easier.
Then, in three days, she received a letter from Jane from Auburn, just east of Sacramento. It was exactly the sort of letter she was used to getting from her consultant, full of his travels, telling her about the beautiful weather, another odd job he’d managed to find (this one helping to open a brand new superstore, of all things. Lisbon wasn’t entirely sure how he’d stumbled into it).
Jane didn’t reference her letter in his reply (even though she’d sent it to Folsom, which, while not on a directly line between Sacramento and Auburn, certainly wasn’t out of the way either). Lisbon decided to assume he’d never gotten it. It was certainly possible. She thought about re-writing it. Or at least re-writing some of the main ideas. She’d never be able to remember the exact words. But she didn’t.
What was the point?
Jane was Jane. She’d always known that.
(Besides, part of her wondered if his letter had been just a little too cheerful.)
Maybe it was better to put it to the side for now. She still wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to say to him. She wasn’t even sure if she was angry anymore.
Everything had somehow settled back down. Things were calm, she was mostly content. Sometimes she had a sudden flash of missing him. Mostly she just hoped he was okay.
And she still wrote him letters. He didn’t always get them exactly in order, or he replied after she’d sent the next one. But at least the correspondence was something semi-solid.
That helped a little.
xxx
Dear Jane,
I’m sending you your Christmas present to Stockton. Christmas is in a month, but I’m telling you now so that you have enough advanced warning that you can plan your travels accordingly. I know you’re heading east, but I figure that won’t take all month, and you’re due to go south next. If you want it, you know where to find it. It’s up to you. Don’t you dare thank me.
In other news, I very nearly got run over with a shopping cart yesterday. (I was pushing the cart, not someone nearly crashed into me with a cart. I realized after I wrote that sentence that it might be confusing.) Luckily, I have quick reflexes. Here’s what happened. I was at the grocery store...
[...]
x
Lisbon sealed the envelope slowly. Actually, Sacramento would have made more sense as a place to send Jane’s Christmas present, but she couldn’t send it there. She just couldn’t. For one, she didn’t like the idea of him in Sacramento alone (she supposed he could always drop in on Cho, but she also knew he wouldn’t). For another, they hadn’t had particularly good luck with letters in Sacramento lately. That wound was still raw.
Stockton was the next best choice.
If Jane didn’t like it, he didn’t have to pick up her gift. That was all there was to it.
In the meantime, she’d just wait for his reply.
x
Colfax, California
Dear Lisbon,
I’ve found something else to occupy my time with for a few days. Impromptu lessons in public speaking of all things. I’m helping out an old friend for a few days. I’m almost looking forward to it.
Now let me tell you about a man I met yesterday. He’s ninety-five and he’s lived in Colfax almost his entire adult life (except for the time he was oversees fighting in WWII). In his opinion it’s the best place in the world. I wish I had his conviction. I’ll tell you all about it.
[,,,]
x
Dear Jane,
Just in case you didn’t get my last letter (you didn’t mention it in your last one - I think we’re out of sync again), I’m telling you again that I’m sending your Christmas present to Stockton. And don’t thank me for it in advance, that’ll just be weird.
Seriously, I don’t want to hear about it.
I was cleaning the garden again yesterday. I’m seriously getting a bit sick of the approving looks the aggravating woman in charge gives me. I’d quit, but Mrs. Foster who lives next door and is lovely, really appreciates it too. And I can’t bear to disappoint her. I don’t know if you’ve met her. She’s a retired teacher, and really lovely.
Christmas is coming. I’m almost done my shopping, which is good, since most of it is being mailed. I still have to get something for Van Pelt though. Rigsby and Cho are easier to shop for, somehow. I suppose I could always fall back on candles or hand lotion, the old staples. Not very imaginative though. What do you think?
[...]
x
Grass Valley, California,
Lisbon dear,
I got your letter. Of course I’ll go and pick up your Christmas present. Of course I want it. You didn’t have to get me one though. I’m going to dare your displeasure and thank you. I want you to know that I appreciate it Teresa, along with everything else you’ve done for me. Stockton sounds like just about the perfect place to be in a month.
I saw you on television the other day, a press conference, obviously. It was that double homicide in Monterey. In spite of the subject matter, it was good to hear your voice. Also, you got your hair cut. I like it. The bangs suit you. You looked lovely.
I’m also glad you survived your near hit and run at the grocery store. Did you try to arrest the culprit? Tell me you at least flashed your badge.
[...]
x
Over the next month, letters flew between Agent and ex-consultant. Then, almost before Lisbon realized it, it was Christmas eve eve, and she was on her way to Tommy’s for a week armed with presents and homemade cookies.
After an almost too-long drive, she pulled up in front of Tommy’s. He’d obviously been waiting for her, because he was walking down the path to meet her by the time she was out of the car.
He shook his head when he saw the cookie tin in her hands. “I told you that you didn’t have to bring anything Reese.”
“And you knew that I would,” she said handing him the cookies. “They’re peanut butter.”
Tommy glanced down at the tin. “Mom’s recipe?” he asked softly.
Lisbon nodded. “Yeah.”
“Thanks Reese,” he said softly, setting the cookies down and pulling her into a hug.
Lisbon hugged him tightly back. “It’s good to see you Tommy.”
“You too,” he agreed, picking up her bag and ignoring her sound of protest.
That was when Annie came bounding out the door. “Aunt Reese!” she cried, excited. “You’re here!”
“I am!” Lisbon agreed with a laugh, accepting a hug from her niece. “How’re you?”
“Good,” Annie told her. “How was the trip?”
“Good,” Lisbon told her with a laugh. “And dare I ask, how’s Dylan?”
Annie blushed slightly before laughing awkwardly. “He’s good too. We’re going out tomorrow. You might meet him.”
“Oh?” Lisbon hummed.
Tommy gestured towards the front door. “Can we please take girl talk inside?” he asked. “Maybe let Reese get unpacked a little? I promise you two will have plenty of time to talk to each other about... girl things later. I’ll even make myself scarce if you want.”
Lisbon obliged, grinning up at him. “You’re welcome to join in on girl talk too, Tom,” she told him. “We could exchange hair-styling tips. What do you use, moose or gel? It’s going to have to be beauty-related because I’m pretty sure you’d be terrible at gossiping about boys...”
“Oh, get inside,” her brother laughed.
Lisbon smiled. It was really good to see them both. This was exactly what she’d needed.
xxx
The next day and a half passed more quickly than Lisbon would have thought possible. She spent Christmas Eve alternating between chatting with Annie, helping her brother with dinner preparations (and trying not to argue with him when he tried to shoe her out and get her to relax), watching hockey on television, taking a nap, and meeting Dylan when he picked Annie up. The high school student looked a little nervous when Annie introduced him (Lisbon imagined Tommy’s stories about Annie’s favourite aunt the CBI agent were at the forefront of his mind), but he seemed a perfectly nice boy. Not that she’d thought otherwise, but it was nice to finally put a face to a name.
Christmas morning was a fairly low-key affair. The three Lisbons went to church. None of them really attended mass regularly, but it was Christmas and some things were tradition, particularly when family was around.
When they got back, it was present time. Annie squealed over her watch, and threw her arms around her aunt. Tommy thanked his sister for the sweater and the candy and grinned over his daughter’s gift of a massive box of sweets from a local chocolate shop. He beamed when his daughter opened the new mp3 player under the tree. Lisbon got a joint gift from the two of them of a painting by a local artist, which she loved on sight. Then there was the multitude of presents from the other Lisbon brothers, all sent to Tommy’s.
Tommy stood up to make brunch for everyone. Lisbon moved to help him, but he waved her off. She’d have ignored him, but he shook his head. “You’ve got one more present,” he told her with a smirk.
Lisbon frowned and looked at Annie for clarification.
Annie was already on her way to her room.
Lisbon glanced back at Tommy, her eyes questioning.
“Don’t look at me,” he said holding his hands up. “Talk to Annie about it.” With that he went into the kitchen.
Annie returned a few minutes later with two boxes, one large, one small.
Lisbon’s heart started to thud.
Annie set the little one on the couch, handing her aunt the bigger one.
“You’ve got one too?” Lisbon asked, swallowing to combat a suddenly dry throat, the address on the top confirming her suspicions.
“Yup,” Annie said. “My price for passing your gift along,” she told her aunt.
“Why don’t you open yours first?” Lisbon asked softly, trying to steady herself.
Annie narrowed her eyes, before shrugging and doing as she asked. She pulled up the lid. “The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?” she read in confusion.
Lisbon let out a whoosh of laughter. “It’s a good book,” she promised her niece. “You’ll like it.”
“If you say so,” Annie muttered. Then she looked back at Lisbon tentatively. “Do you want me to leave while you open yours?”
Lisbon shook her head quickly. She really didn’t want to be left alone all of a sudden. “Of course not.” Slowly she opened the flaps of the box. Smiling briefly when she noticed the letter tucked inside. Then her breath caught in her throat when she saw the contents of the box.
Annie wasn’t the only one getting a book from Patrick Jane that Christmas. Except that Lisbon hadn’t just gotten one book.
The box was full. She flipped through the titles. It looked like he’d gotten her the rest of the Lord Peter Wimsey books, but that wasn’t all. She was now the proud owner of what she was pretty sure was the complete works of P.G. Wodehouse. Plus there was Dickens and Anne of Green Gables and Jane Eyre. There were more modern titles as well. Lisbon noticed a series of mystery novels she’d noticed on her last trip into a bookstore. She’d almost bought the first one then; now she didn’t have to. Jane had certainly been eclectic in his choices. Lisbon caught everything from fantasy to romance as she sorted through the last few titles. And down at the bottom she even found a single Harlequin romance novel.
Lisbon laughed, tears pricking in her eyes. She blinked them back.
“Looks like we’ve both got some reading to do,” Annie said dryly, glancing into Lisbon’s box.
“Guess so,” her aunt agreed.
“Hey!” Annie said, pointing. “What’s that?”
Lisbon frowned, noticing the box in the bottom corner for the first time. She pulled it out, flipping open the lid in a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
Then she gasped.
It was a brooch. She had no idea where he’d gotten it, but it was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It looked vaguely Celtic in design, though not quite. Lisbon figured it was a mixture of styles. It was silver, strands bending every which way in a geometrical pattern. The thing was obviously well-made, but not so ostentatious that she couldn’t wear it to work. Impulsively she pinned it on her shirt, admiring how it looked. She loved it. She absolutely loved it.
“Oh pretty!” Annie commented. “Mr. Jane has good taste.”
“Yeah,” Lisbon agreed absently, shocked when her voice came dangerously close to breaking. She stood abruptly. “I should move these out of the way,” she said picking up the box.
“Okay,” Annie agreed. “You need help?”
Lisbon shook her head.
“I’ll go help Dad then,” Annie replied.
Lisbon nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”
Clutching the box against her chest, Lisbon fled to the relative safety of her brother’s spare room/office.
Dropping the box next to the futon she was sleeping on, she rubbed a hand over her face. She really should have expected this. She really should have. She’d told Jane she was buying her a gift. Why was it such a shock that he’d reciprocated? And why was she so surprised that the gift he had sent was practically perfect. He was Jane, the next best thing to a mind reader. And she’d been writing him letters for the better part of a year.
Speaking of letters... Lisbon plucked the letter from the top of the box and opened it.
x
Dear Teresa,
Surprise dear! I’ve plotted with Annie to get you your Christmas present. You’d better not be surprised that I sent you one. Of course I sent you one. I hope you like it. I sent you a box of fiction, since I’m always worried you’ll backslide into those unimaginative books about leadership and management and corporate priorities and any number of other dull subjects. So enjoy your novels. I know you have another few days off. Spend part of them curled up with a book. Expand your horizons and all that.
And have a lovely holiday. I hope it’s everything you wanted it to be. I know Annie’s excited. Enjoy it. Sleep in. Indulge. And I want to hear all about Dylan when you get back.
Did you like the brooch? I hope you did. It reminded me of you.
Anyway, this letter is going to be short, but I’ll write again. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas, Teresa. I hope the upcoming year is a happy one.
Yours,
Patrick
x
Lisbon was still fingering the corner of the paper, unsure what she felt, when she heard the knock on the door.
“Aunt Reese?” Annie called.
“Come in,” Lisbon said, folding the letter back up again. She sent her niece a smile. “Time for pancakes?” she asked.
Annie smiled. “Almost. I got a text from Jane. He says Merry Christmas, he liked his present, and he’ll write you a letter all about it for when you get back.”
Lisbon’s smile became a little forced. “Okay.”
Annie stepped forward tentatively. “Are you okay, Aunt Reese?” she asked.
Lisbon narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Annie shrugged. “I dunno... I just thought...”
Lisbon sighed. “I’m fine,” she promised. “Really.”
“Okay,” Annie agreed.
Judging by her niece’s face, Lisbon realized that she wasn’t being very convincing. “I’m having a really good Christmas with you and your Dad, Annie.”
Annie smiled. “Good. Because I’m really glad you came for the week.”
Lisbon smiled, pulling her niece into a hug. “Me too,” she whispered, squeezing a little. “Me too.” Then she dropped an arm around her niece’s shoulders and turned her back towards the kitchen. “Now! How about we go make sure your Dad doesn’t burn the pancakes?”
Annie laughed. “He’s gotten a lot better about that,” she assured her aunt.
Lisbon laughed with her, unbelievably glad that she had family around to spend the holiday with. And to think, when Tommy had invited her she’d considered not coming. That’d been plain foolish. Spending Christmas alone would have been nothing but depressing., unlike someone else she knew. She hoped he’d found some friends, somewhere.
Shaking Jane out of her mind, Lisbon walked into the kitchen with her niece. Smelling freshly made coffee, bacon and pancakes, Lisbon smiled genuinely. Now this was pretty near perfect.
She grabbed plates from the cupboard, and let her brother slide a pancake onto one, teasing him about the charred edges.
As she listened to him defend himself self-righteously, her smile widened. This was what Christmas was all about.
xxx
The last three days at Tommy’s went by as quickly as the first three. Lisbon spent them gossiping with Annie and talking to her brother. There was a girls only shopping trip followed by the promised all-inclusive trip to the shooting range. Then the three of them went hiking. And Lisbon and Tommy yelled at the hockey game on TV while Dylan took Annie to a dance.
In between all that, Lisbon could be found curled up at her brother’s with one of Jane’s books. She hadn’t answered his letter yet. She’d do that when she got home, but she had to admit, his present had been useful for filling the odd hour at her brother’s.
Curled up on the couch with one of her many new mystery novels, Lisbon flipped a page with a smile. It’d really been an almost perfect holiday.
A shame really, that she was leaving the next morning.
xxx
TBC
Oh look, it’s the end of the chapter and there’s still a lot of text. Guess what that means?
Yup, deleted scene #2. (Because my brain likes to write things that really don’t fit into the narrative I’m actually writing.) The italics are text messages.
xxx
Annie had just gotten home from school and was rummaging in the fridge looking for a snack. She saw the leftovers that were meant to be dinner. Her Dad had told her he’d be home lateish, and that he’d grab something on his way back. So the leftovers were all hers. She’d heat them up later. In the meantime she grabbed an apple.
That was when she heard her phone buzz with a text.
She grinned when she saw who it was from.
I need your address.
Annie quickly typed in a reply. What? Why? You planning a visit?
Jane’s answer came almost immediately. Not exactly.
She frowned. Then why?
Thirty seconds later her phone chirped again. You shouldn’t ask questions like that so close to Christmas. Santa might not like it.
That made Annie grin again. You sending me a present? She teased. Then she walked over to the couch with her snack, waiting for his reply.
Did I say that?
She chuckled, settling in for a round of text messages. She’d learned early on that Mr. Jane rarely answered a question directly. Pretty much.
Hey! Just for that, I’m not sending you anything.
Annie smirked. If he thought that was leverage, he was a moron. She was holding the trump card this time, and she knew it. Even if he’d never admit it. Plus, Aunt Reese is going to be here for Christmas.
Is she?
Annie shook her head in exasperation. Don’t be dumb. I’m sure she told you she was coming.
She might have mentioned it, now that I think about it.
I told you, don’t be dumb.
I wasn’t.
You were. And yes. I’ll give her your present.
Thank you.
Annie waited a minute before sending her next text. She was doing him a favour after all. If you send me one too.
Naturally.
I knew it.
You think you’re so smart.
I am. I told you, you’re the one being dumb.
Yes, you’ve mentioned that several times.
Annie tapped her hand on the screen of her phone, wondering how far she should push. She remembered Aunt Reese’s evasions the last time she’d brought up Jane and whether she’d seen him. She decided to go for it. You both are. Come for Christmas dinner.
It was a few minutes before Jane replied.
I can’t. I’m sorry.
His answer made Annie scowl. She didn’t care if it was immature. He was being stupid.. Fine.
I really am.
Sure.
Thank you though.
She ignored the peace offering. Whatever.
Good night, Annie.
Good night Mr. Jane.
A second later Annie had her phone in her hand again. She was going to text Dylan. He was way less stupid over the phone, even if he was a boy.
xxx
And, now it’s time for Deleted Scene #3. ‘Tis short.
xxx
Annie watched her aunt carry her box of books into the spare room and shut the door.
Her father appeared at her elbow. “Is she okay?” he asked.
Annie nodded. “She’s fine,” she assured her father. “I think she just wants to read her letter.”
“Annabeth,” her Dad said, using her full in warning. “Is there something I should know? Do I need to, I don’t know, find this Jane guy and...”
“And what, Dad?” Annie challenged. “Kick the crap out of him, defending Aunt Reese’s honour, or something equally stupid? She’d kick your ass herself if you did.”
Tommy Lisbon frowned. “Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”
Annie smirked suddenly. “Remember how you sometimes tell her to butt out of your life...”
She watched her Dad consider that. After a minute he laughed. “Okay, fine. But I still don’t like it.”
He turned to check on his pancakes. Annie took advantage of his distraction to dig up her phone. She started texting furiously.
Merry Christmas. You’re an idiot.
A few seconds later a reply appeared.
Merry Christmas to you too. Does this mean you don’t like Holmes?
Annie sighed. Idiot. My book is fine. Thank you. Aunt Reese says I’ll like it.
You will.
Speaking of Aunt Reese... Jane’s reply came almost immediately.
Yes?
Annie paused, wondering how much she should say. In the end she went with her gut. She seemed to like her books. And her brooch. She really liked that.
Good. I’m glad.
She seemed kind of upset though. Annie bit her lip. This time the answer took longer.
I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that.
This time the reply was easy. I know. But that’s why you’re an idiot.
I know.
Good, I guess. She’s reading your letter now.
Tell her there’ll be another one waiting for her when she gets back to Sacramento. And tell her I loved my present.
A second later another text from Jane appeared on the screen. And tell her Merry Christmas.
Annie scowled, suddenly unbelievably irritated at the man on the other end of the phone. Tell her yourself, she texted back angrily. With that she snapped her phone shut.
She glanced towards the closed spare room door and sighed. “I’ll go tell Aunt Reese the pancakes are almost ready,” she told her father as she stood.
Just stupid, the pair of them.
xxx
Alright, now I’m really done.
Title: Long lost (Long last)
Rating: K+
Pairing/Genre: Jane/Lisbon, friendship/romance
Summary: After a case involving obscure hobbies, Jane decides to bring back the long lost art of letter-writing. In spite of his best efforts, he only manages to secure a single correspondant
Chapter 13
xxx
Over the next few weeks, the letters between Lisbon and Jane flowed fairly frequently as he made his way south. Lisbon tried very hard not to focus on the fact that he was traveling towards Sacramento again. Unless he veered off course he couldn`t miss it.
But she didn`t want to think about that.
Instead she focussed on her letters, both sent and received.
x
Mount Shasta, California
Dear Lisbon,
Congratulations on acting as an accessory to scaring the life out of a fifteen year old. You must feel very proud. Oddly enough, when I congratulated Annie on her date, she wasn`t impressed with me. Apparently I am both an annoying know-it-all and an idiot. I would have thought those two were mutually exclusive, but I digress.
It’s nice to hear you talk about your family. You sound happy. I’m glad.
I saw an elephant yesterday. No, not at the state fair. At a zoo, just for a change. It cost an exorbitant amount to gain entrance, but I enjoyed myself in the end. So there is that. The visit passed the time.
Unfortunately, sometimes I don’t quite know what to do with myself or my time.
-Jane
x
Lisbon could give him a few suggestions for that last problem, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. So she simply wrote back.
As she always did.
x
Dear Jane,
Wasn’t half the point of this trip or yours to find out what to do with yourself? Give it time.
I’m sorry. I know that advice is trite. But I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what you want me to say.
Or, if you’re getting frustrated, maybe try meditation or something.
Did you look at the monkeys at the zoo? You should have if you didn’t. I think you’d find kindred spirits there. Hey! Maybe they’d provide you with some answers...
Did I mention that I’m going to Tommy’s for Christmas? It’s just going to be the three of us, me, Tommy and Annie. But I think it’ll be good. Really good. Tommy won’t tell me what to bring though. Keeps saying he has everything under control. And he probably does. It’s not like I’m a gourmet cook anyway, but I still want to contribute, you know? Maybe I’ll bring a dessert or something. You can never have too much dessert at Christmas.
So I won’t be in Sacramento over Christmas. Apparently the Lisbon family’s planning for the holidays early this year. Not that early though, not even two months to go. I’ll have to figure out Christmas presents...
I don’t suppose Annie’s mentioned something she absolutely has to have this year in her texts?
-Lisbon
x
Redding, California
Dear Teresa,
Don’t ask me what you should tell me. You’ve always told me exactly what you thought of me. I seem to recall any number of insults hurled in my direction over the years. Don’t change now. I don’t want you to say anything, except what you think. I’m not writing to you so you can tell me what you think I want to hear. That’s not the point of the letters. I want to hear from you.
They don’t need to be about my problems either. I just want to hear something.
I want to read what you think about things. Your favourite books, Rigsby and Cho’s latest escapade, the romantic drama (or lack thereof) of the little Lisbon. That’s what I want.
That’s what I want you to write.
Have a wonderful Christmas with your family, Lisbon. You deserve it.
I think Annie’d be far more likely to tell you what she wants for Christmas than me. You’re cool Aunt Teresa after all. You’ll figure something out. I know you will.
-Jane
x
Dear Jane,
I bought Annie the watch she was coveting in the shop window on our last shopping trip. And I bought Tommy a new sweater and a box of saltwater taffy. He always loved that stuff.
Now I just have to figure out my other brothers and their families. And my other nieces and nephews. The lead up to the holidays is kind of exhausting, in a good kind of a way.
And if you want stories, well, I’ve somehow gotten talked into helping to tend our condo’s communal garden. It was absolutely ridiculous. The head of the condo association cornered me, and I wasn’t prepared. And well, let me start from the beginning.
I’d just gotten back from a case...
x
The letters continued to flow, as Jane inched southward, closer and closer to Sacramento.
Lisbon actually found herself getting almost anxious. Jane hadn’t mentioned anything about it (not that he would). Of course, neither had she.
He’d probably veer east at the last second missing the city altogether, or something equally idiotic.
She threw herself into work to distract herself. Well, work and making sure that the condo garden was 100% weed free. She knew that the battleaxe of a woman who was in charge of the building was pleased with her work, which only served to irritate Lisbon further.
Then, to her absolute relief, she got called away for a murder out of town. Far out of town.
She’d obsess about Jane’s extraordinarily slow travelling speed when she got back.
xxx
A few days later, Lisbon walked to her front door, ready to just collapse on her couch, or maybe her bed. Everything else could wait until the morning. It’d been a ridiculously long drive back to Sacramento, but at least they’d solved their case. She’d dropped Rigsby at his place before coming home, and she felt dead on her feet.
To add insult to injury, there hadn’t even been a letter in her mailbox to distract her. Lisbon tried not to be disappointed by that fact. She failed.
Resigned, she trudged towards her door. That was when she saw it.
There was a letter sitting on the floor, one corner poking out into the hall, the rest presumably in her apartment. It had no stamp, no postmark, no address, just her name scrawled across the front. Someone had obviously slipped it partway under her door. She knew exactly who that someone was. She’d been following his movements for months now.
And she knew his handwriting.
With a grin, Lisbon opened her door quickly, practically bouncing in.
Only to find that the inside of her condo quite obviously hadn’t been disturbed since she’d left it three days earlier. She could still see the single coffee cup sitting on her counter where she’d left it. All alone.
Lisbon told herself it was what she’d been expecting. She told herself it only made sense.
She told herself that she hadn’t expected him to have broken into her condo and made himself at home while he waited for her.
She told herself she hadn’t expected to see him waiting on her couch with a fresh pot of tea.
She didn’t even come close to convincing herself.
She almost didn’t open the letter in her anger - in many ways anger was easier to deal with than the other things flooding her brain.
What was wrong with him? He’d come to her town, even to her apartment. And he hadn’t stopped. He had nothing to do with his time. He’d said as much himself more than once. No appointments, no claims on him of any kind. He was driving around at random. He’d been in Sacramento, but for some reason couldn’t spare a day or two to stop and say hello? Maybe get a cup of coffee? Hell, she’d have paid for it.
But apparently not.
Apparently someone was too busy. Had to keep up his hectic schedule of driving aimlessly around California, brooding and looking at ridiculous tourist attractions and, and, and staring at trees.
What the hell?
Jerk.
Idiot.
Moron.
Oaf.
Fathead.
Pea-brained cretin.
Spineless cad.
Selfish bastard.
Self, selfish, selfish.
And stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid...
Lisbon paced back and forth between her living room and kitchen, alternating between practically foaming at the mouth and trying to convince herself that she shouldn’t be mad, that she wasn’t mad.
That everything was fine. (Except that it really wasn’t.)
In the end she gave in and opened the envelope. Her curiosity got the better of her.
x
Dear Teresa,
I’m sorry. I know you’re probably angry with me. I don’t blame you.
I don’t have a very good explanation for it. Not one that will satisfy you, I’d imagine. I just suddenly knew that I couldn’t see you. It would make everything more difficult, infinitely more difficult.
Don’t blame your case, or the fact that you were out of town. I knew that you were when I dropped this letter off (heard about it on the radio, as it happens). But, if you hadn’t been away on a case, I’d have dropped my note off at your place while you were at the office, or maybe just mailed it to you like all the others. The case just made things easier, gave me more of an excuse (albeit not a very good one, I know).
It’s nothing you did. I’m not angry with you, or punishing you, or anything else. Trust me when I say that this has nothing to do with anything but the problems in my own confused, messed up brain. Your letters seem to stabilize things, but seeing you... I don’t know. I just don’t know, and that’s the problem. (There are too many things that I don’t know.) Suddenly, I don’t think this north-south thing is working for me anymore. Maybe I’ll try heading east for a change.
But I couldn’t just leave the city without a word. That seemed cruel. (As opposed to what I did do, which is mainly selfish, or maybe self-preservation.).
Anyway...
Your building looks the same as ever, except that some of the trees are a little taller and I see that the sickly looking rosebush in the front has finally succumbed to its inevitable fate. The hydrangea that’s replaced it looks much hardier. I have high hopes for it.
I know, I know, the lightness isn’t helping. I really am sorry.
Hate me for this if you like. You certainly have the right to. You have the right to quite a bit more, actually. So very much more. I’ve never been particularly strong, particularly brave (that was always your job). I’m always so full of human frailty.
I’m so sorry.
I wish I could have seen you.
-Jane
x
Lisbon stared at the letter in her hands, a million feelings swirling around her brain. She couldn’t make head nor tail of them really; there were just too many.
Anger and irritation started to take precedence, mixed in with a healthy dollop of hurt.
She felt the urge to crumple Jane’s letter in a ball and fling it across the room. The only thing that stopped her was a small voice in the back of her brain, straining to be heard, pointing out that she’d always known Jane was really messed up. That he had about a decade of issues to go through. That she should have expected this. Maybe the fact that he was admitting something was wrong was a good sign.
It wasn’t much, but it stopped her from shredding the note.
It didn’t stop her from wanting to scream at him.
Since that wasn’t an option, Lisbon went with the next thing, grabbing a pen and piece of paper she began to write furiously.
x
Jane,
Maybe I’d have wanted your cockamamie explanation, did you ever think of that before you decided not to give it? Maybe it would have satisfied me. You don’t know me as well as you think you do. And even if you’re right, don’t you think I deserve to hear it?
Instead I got a few sentences about how this is hard for you. You don’t think I *know* this is hard for you? I have been nothing but supportive for months. Months, Jane. God. I wasn’t expecting you to show up and take me out for dinner or something, all cheerful and full of stories about your travels. But would a cup of coffee have killed you?
Would it? You were just complaining about having nothing to do with yourself, you idiot.
I think I would have preferred if you had just mailed the damn letter. At least then I could have pretended that you decided to drive around the city or something, instead of showing up on the other side of my damn door and deciding it wasn’t worth waiting a couple of days for me to come back.
You are a selfish bastard.
But I know that. I’ve always known that. And here’s a secret, most of the time, I don’t really mind all that much. Oh wait, you already knew that too. I bet you figured that out about a week after I met you. You arrogant ass. You knew exactly what type of boss I’d be. How long before you started manipulating me? Five minutes, maybe ten? Or was it less? Did you have some big grand plan? I hope I spoiled it.
Or, I don’t know. I don’t know if I meant that. But I’m not exactly sorry. I want to yell at you. And you did say that you wanted me to tell you things...
Damn, damn, damn, damn.
I know you’re trying to figure stuff out, and I hope to god you are. I really do. I don’t want to send you off into a tailspin (which apparently the sight of my face would have done. Awesome). Maybe this was a good decision for you. I don’t know. It seems like neither of us knows anything.
But this just, it... it... I’m angry with you for this. And I wanted you to know that.
Sometimes I just get so sick of being the one who always has to be sensible. I wish that rosebush was still in front of my building, and that you’d cut your hand on it. And then bled all over your stupid suit. And the stain refused to come out.
Maybe I don’t know what I want.
I’ll write to you again in a few days. Not now. Not just now.
-Lisbon
x
Very quickly, Lisbon addressed the letter (after a quick glance at her map to find a likely candidate city to send it to), jumped from her couch and ran downstairs to mail it instead of leaving it on her coffee table to drop into a mailbox in the morning. By the morning she’d have talked herself down, or maybe just become resigned to things and she wouldn’t send it. For some reason she wanted to send him this one. It felt important.
When she got back from her all-important trip to the post office, she just ran out of steam, crawling into her bed in exhaustion.
She’d figure it out tomorrow. She always did.
xxx
She didn’t figure it out the next day. Or even the day after that. She pretty much ignored it. That was easier.
Then, in three days, she received a letter from Jane from Auburn, just east of Sacramento. It was exactly the sort of letter she was used to getting from her consultant, full of his travels, telling her about the beautiful weather, another odd job he’d managed to find (this one helping to open a brand new superstore, of all things. Lisbon wasn’t entirely sure how he’d stumbled into it).
Jane didn’t reference her letter in his reply (even though she’d sent it to Folsom, which, while not on a directly line between Sacramento and Auburn, certainly wasn’t out of the way either). Lisbon decided to assume he’d never gotten it. It was certainly possible. She thought about re-writing it. Or at least re-writing some of the main ideas. She’d never be able to remember the exact words. But she didn’t.
What was the point?
Jane was Jane. She’d always known that.
(Besides, part of her wondered if his letter had been just a little too cheerful.)
Maybe it was better to put it to the side for now. She still wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to say to him. She wasn’t even sure if she was angry anymore.
Everything had somehow settled back down. Things were calm, she was mostly content. Sometimes she had a sudden flash of missing him. Mostly she just hoped he was okay.
And she still wrote him letters. He didn’t always get them exactly in order, or he replied after she’d sent the next one. But at least the correspondence was something semi-solid.
That helped a little.
xxx
Dear Jane,
I’m sending you your Christmas present to Stockton. Christmas is in a month, but I’m telling you now so that you have enough advanced warning that you can plan your travels accordingly. I know you’re heading east, but I figure that won’t take all month, and you’re due to go south next. If you want it, you know where to find it. It’s up to you. Don’t you dare thank me.
In other news, I very nearly got run over with a shopping cart yesterday. (I was pushing the cart, not someone nearly crashed into me with a cart. I realized after I wrote that sentence that it might be confusing.) Luckily, I have quick reflexes. Here’s what happened. I was at the grocery store...
[...]
x
Lisbon sealed the envelope slowly. Actually, Sacramento would have made more sense as a place to send Jane’s Christmas present, but she couldn’t send it there. She just couldn’t. For one, she didn’t like the idea of him in Sacramento alone (she supposed he could always drop in on Cho, but she also knew he wouldn’t). For another, they hadn’t had particularly good luck with letters in Sacramento lately. That wound was still raw.
Stockton was the next best choice.
If Jane didn’t like it, he didn’t have to pick up her gift. That was all there was to it.
In the meantime, she’d just wait for his reply.
x
Colfax, California
Dear Lisbon,
I’ve found something else to occupy my time with for a few days. Impromptu lessons in public speaking of all things. I’m helping out an old friend for a few days. I’m almost looking forward to it.
Now let me tell you about a man I met yesterday. He’s ninety-five and he’s lived in Colfax almost his entire adult life (except for the time he was oversees fighting in WWII). In his opinion it’s the best place in the world. I wish I had his conviction. I’ll tell you all about it.
[,,,]
x
Dear Jane,
Just in case you didn’t get my last letter (you didn’t mention it in your last one - I think we’re out of sync again), I’m telling you again that I’m sending your Christmas present to Stockton. And don’t thank me for it in advance, that’ll just be weird.
Seriously, I don’t want to hear about it.
I was cleaning the garden again yesterday. I’m seriously getting a bit sick of the approving looks the aggravating woman in charge gives me. I’d quit, but Mrs. Foster who lives next door and is lovely, really appreciates it too. And I can’t bear to disappoint her. I don’t know if you’ve met her. She’s a retired teacher, and really lovely.
Christmas is coming. I’m almost done my shopping, which is good, since most of it is being mailed. I still have to get something for Van Pelt though. Rigsby and Cho are easier to shop for, somehow. I suppose I could always fall back on candles or hand lotion, the old staples. Not very imaginative though. What do you think?
[...]
x
Grass Valley, California,
Lisbon dear,
I got your letter. Of course I’ll go and pick up your Christmas present. Of course I want it. You didn’t have to get me one though. I’m going to dare your displeasure and thank you. I want you to know that I appreciate it Teresa, along with everything else you’ve done for me. Stockton sounds like just about the perfect place to be in a month.
I saw you on television the other day, a press conference, obviously. It was that double homicide in Monterey. In spite of the subject matter, it was good to hear your voice. Also, you got your hair cut. I like it. The bangs suit you. You looked lovely.
I’m also glad you survived your near hit and run at the grocery store. Did you try to arrest the culprit? Tell me you at least flashed your badge.
[...]
x
Over the next month, letters flew between Agent and ex-consultant. Then, almost before Lisbon realized it, it was Christmas eve eve, and she was on her way to Tommy’s for a week armed with presents and homemade cookies.
After an almost too-long drive, she pulled up in front of Tommy’s. He’d obviously been waiting for her, because he was walking down the path to meet her by the time she was out of the car.
He shook his head when he saw the cookie tin in her hands. “I told you that you didn’t have to bring anything Reese.”
“And you knew that I would,” she said handing him the cookies. “They’re peanut butter.”
Tommy glanced down at the tin. “Mom’s recipe?” he asked softly.
Lisbon nodded. “Yeah.”
“Thanks Reese,” he said softly, setting the cookies down and pulling her into a hug.
Lisbon hugged him tightly back. “It’s good to see you Tommy.”
“You too,” he agreed, picking up her bag and ignoring her sound of protest.
That was when Annie came bounding out the door. “Aunt Reese!” she cried, excited. “You’re here!”
“I am!” Lisbon agreed with a laugh, accepting a hug from her niece. “How’re you?”
“Good,” Annie told her. “How was the trip?”
“Good,” Lisbon told her with a laugh. “And dare I ask, how’s Dylan?”
Annie blushed slightly before laughing awkwardly. “He’s good too. We’re going out tomorrow. You might meet him.”
“Oh?” Lisbon hummed.
Tommy gestured towards the front door. “Can we please take girl talk inside?” he asked. “Maybe let Reese get unpacked a little? I promise you two will have plenty of time to talk to each other about... girl things later. I’ll even make myself scarce if you want.”
Lisbon obliged, grinning up at him. “You’re welcome to join in on girl talk too, Tom,” she told him. “We could exchange hair-styling tips. What do you use, moose or gel? It’s going to have to be beauty-related because I’m pretty sure you’d be terrible at gossiping about boys...”
“Oh, get inside,” her brother laughed.
Lisbon smiled. It was really good to see them both. This was exactly what she’d needed.
xxx
The next day and a half passed more quickly than Lisbon would have thought possible. She spent Christmas Eve alternating between chatting with Annie, helping her brother with dinner preparations (and trying not to argue with him when he tried to shoe her out and get her to relax), watching hockey on television, taking a nap, and meeting Dylan when he picked Annie up. The high school student looked a little nervous when Annie introduced him (Lisbon imagined Tommy’s stories about Annie’s favourite aunt the CBI agent were at the forefront of his mind), but he seemed a perfectly nice boy. Not that she’d thought otherwise, but it was nice to finally put a face to a name.
Christmas morning was a fairly low-key affair. The three Lisbons went to church. None of them really attended mass regularly, but it was Christmas and some things were tradition, particularly when family was around.
When they got back, it was present time. Annie squealed over her watch, and threw her arms around her aunt. Tommy thanked his sister for the sweater and the candy and grinned over his daughter’s gift of a massive box of sweets from a local chocolate shop. He beamed when his daughter opened the new mp3 player under the tree. Lisbon got a joint gift from the two of them of a painting by a local artist, which she loved on sight. Then there was the multitude of presents from the other Lisbon brothers, all sent to Tommy’s.
Tommy stood up to make brunch for everyone. Lisbon moved to help him, but he waved her off. She’d have ignored him, but he shook his head. “You’ve got one more present,” he told her with a smirk.
Lisbon frowned and looked at Annie for clarification.
Annie was already on her way to her room.
Lisbon glanced back at Tommy, her eyes questioning.
“Don’t look at me,” he said holding his hands up. “Talk to Annie about it.” With that he went into the kitchen.
Annie returned a few minutes later with two boxes, one large, one small.
Lisbon’s heart started to thud.
Annie set the little one on the couch, handing her aunt the bigger one.
“You’ve got one too?” Lisbon asked, swallowing to combat a suddenly dry throat, the address on the top confirming her suspicions.
“Yup,” Annie said. “My price for passing your gift along,” she told her aunt.
“Why don’t you open yours first?” Lisbon asked softly, trying to steady herself.
Annie narrowed her eyes, before shrugging and doing as she asked. She pulled up the lid. “The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?” she read in confusion.
Lisbon let out a whoosh of laughter. “It’s a good book,” she promised her niece. “You’ll like it.”
“If you say so,” Annie muttered. Then she looked back at Lisbon tentatively. “Do you want me to leave while you open yours?”
Lisbon shook her head quickly. She really didn’t want to be left alone all of a sudden. “Of course not.” Slowly she opened the flaps of the box. Smiling briefly when she noticed the letter tucked inside. Then her breath caught in her throat when she saw the contents of the box.
Annie wasn’t the only one getting a book from Patrick Jane that Christmas. Except that Lisbon hadn’t just gotten one book.
The box was full. She flipped through the titles. It looked like he’d gotten her the rest of the Lord Peter Wimsey books, but that wasn’t all. She was now the proud owner of what she was pretty sure was the complete works of P.G. Wodehouse. Plus there was Dickens and Anne of Green Gables and Jane Eyre. There were more modern titles as well. Lisbon noticed a series of mystery novels she’d noticed on her last trip into a bookstore. She’d almost bought the first one then; now she didn’t have to. Jane had certainly been eclectic in his choices. Lisbon caught everything from fantasy to romance as she sorted through the last few titles. And down at the bottom she even found a single Harlequin romance novel.
Lisbon laughed, tears pricking in her eyes. She blinked them back.
“Looks like we’ve both got some reading to do,” Annie said dryly, glancing into Lisbon’s box.
“Guess so,” her aunt agreed.
“Hey!” Annie said, pointing. “What’s that?”
Lisbon frowned, noticing the box in the bottom corner for the first time. She pulled it out, flipping open the lid in a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
Then she gasped.
It was a brooch. She had no idea where he’d gotten it, but it was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It looked vaguely Celtic in design, though not quite. Lisbon figured it was a mixture of styles. It was silver, strands bending every which way in a geometrical pattern. The thing was obviously well-made, but not so ostentatious that she couldn’t wear it to work. Impulsively she pinned it on her shirt, admiring how it looked. She loved it. She absolutely loved it.
“Oh pretty!” Annie commented. “Mr. Jane has good taste.”
“Yeah,” Lisbon agreed absently, shocked when her voice came dangerously close to breaking. She stood abruptly. “I should move these out of the way,” she said picking up the box.
“Okay,” Annie agreed. “You need help?”
Lisbon shook her head.
“I’ll go help Dad then,” Annie replied.
Lisbon nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”
Clutching the box against her chest, Lisbon fled to the relative safety of her brother’s spare room/office.
Dropping the box next to the futon she was sleeping on, she rubbed a hand over her face. She really should have expected this. She really should have. She’d told Jane she was buying her a gift. Why was it such a shock that he’d reciprocated? And why was she so surprised that the gift he had sent was practically perfect. He was Jane, the next best thing to a mind reader. And she’d been writing him letters for the better part of a year.
Speaking of letters... Lisbon plucked the letter from the top of the box and opened it.
x
Dear Teresa,
Surprise dear! I’ve plotted with Annie to get you your Christmas present. You’d better not be surprised that I sent you one. Of course I sent you one. I hope you like it. I sent you a box of fiction, since I’m always worried you’ll backslide into those unimaginative books about leadership and management and corporate priorities and any number of other dull subjects. So enjoy your novels. I know you have another few days off. Spend part of them curled up with a book. Expand your horizons and all that.
And have a lovely holiday. I hope it’s everything you wanted it to be. I know Annie’s excited. Enjoy it. Sleep in. Indulge. And I want to hear all about Dylan when you get back.
Did you like the brooch? I hope you did. It reminded me of you.
Anyway, this letter is going to be short, but I’ll write again. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas, Teresa. I hope the upcoming year is a happy one.
Yours,
Patrick
x
Lisbon was still fingering the corner of the paper, unsure what she felt, when she heard the knock on the door.
“Aunt Reese?” Annie called.
“Come in,” Lisbon said, folding the letter back up again. She sent her niece a smile. “Time for pancakes?” she asked.
Annie smiled. “Almost. I got a text from Jane. He says Merry Christmas, he liked his present, and he’ll write you a letter all about it for when you get back.”
Lisbon’s smile became a little forced. “Okay.”
Annie stepped forward tentatively. “Are you okay, Aunt Reese?” she asked.
Lisbon narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Annie shrugged. “I dunno... I just thought...”
Lisbon sighed. “I’m fine,” she promised. “Really.”
“Okay,” Annie agreed.
Judging by her niece’s face, Lisbon realized that she wasn’t being very convincing. “I’m having a really good Christmas with you and your Dad, Annie.”
Annie smiled. “Good. Because I’m really glad you came for the week.”
Lisbon smiled, pulling her niece into a hug. “Me too,” she whispered, squeezing a little. “Me too.” Then she dropped an arm around her niece’s shoulders and turned her back towards the kitchen. “Now! How about we go make sure your Dad doesn’t burn the pancakes?”
Annie laughed. “He’s gotten a lot better about that,” she assured her aunt.
Lisbon laughed with her, unbelievably glad that she had family around to spend the holiday with. And to think, when Tommy had invited her she’d considered not coming. That’d been plain foolish. Spending Christmas alone would have been nothing but depressing., unlike someone else she knew. She hoped he’d found some friends, somewhere.
Shaking Jane out of her mind, Lisbon walked into the kitchen with her niece. Smelling freshly made coffee, bacon and pancakes, Lisbon smiled genuinely. Now this was pretty near perfect.
She grabbed plates from the cupboard, and let her brother slide a pancake onto one, teasing him about the charred edges.
As she listened to him defend himself self-righteously, her smile widened. This was what Christmas was all about.
xxx
The last three days at Tommy’s went by as quickly as the first three. Lisbon spent them gossiping with Annie and talking to her brother. There was a girls only shopping trip followed by the promised all-inclusive trip to the shooting range. Then the three of them went hiking. And Lisbon and Tommy yelled at the hockey game on TV while Dylan took Annie to a dance.
In between all that, Lisbon could be found curled up at her brother’s with one of Jane’s books. She hadn’t answered his letter yet. She’d do that when she got home, but she had to admit, his present had been useful for filling the odd hour at her brother’s.
Curled up on the couch with one of her many new mystery novels, Lisbon flipped a page with a smile. It’d really been an almost perfect holiday.
A shame really, that she was leaving the next morning.
xxx
TBC
Oh look, it’s the end of the chapter and there’s still a lot of text. Guess what that means?
Yup, deleted scene #2. (Because my brain likes to write things that really don’t fit into the narrative I’m actually writing.) The italics are text messages.
xxx
Annie had just gotten home from school and was rummaging in the fridge looking for a snack. She saw the leftovers that were meant to be dinner. Her Dad had told her he’d be home lateish, and that he’d grab something on his way back. So the leftovers were all hers. She’d heat them up later. In the meantime she grabbed an apple.
That was when she heard her phone buzz with a text.
She grinned when she saw who it was from.
I need your address.
Annie quickly typed in a reply. What? Why? You planning a visit?
Jane’s answer came almost immediately. Not exactly.
She frowned. Then why?
Thirty seconds later her phone chirped again. You shouldn’t ask questions like that so close to Christmas. Santa might not like it.
That made Annie grin again. You sending me a present? She teased. Then she walked over to the couch with her snack, waiting for his reply.
Did I say that?
She chuckled, settling in for a round of text messages. She’d learned early on that Mr. Jane rarely answered a question directly. Pretty much.
Hey! Just for that, I’m not sending you anything.
Annie smirked. If he thought that was leverage, he was a moron. She was holding the trump card this time, and she knew it. Even if he’d never admit it. Plus, Aunt Reese is going to be here for Christmas.
Is she?
Annie shook her head in exasperation. Don’t be dumb. I’m sure she told you she was coming.
She might have mentioned it, now that I think about it.
I told you, don’t be dumb.
I wasn’t.
You were. And yes. I’ll give her your present.
Thank you.
Annie waited a minute before sending her next text. She was doing him a favour after all. If you send me one too.
Naturally.
I knew it.
You think you’re so smart.
I am. I told you, you’re the one being dumb.
Yes, you’ve mentioned that several times.
Annie tapped her hand on the screen of her phone, wondering how far she should push. She remembered Aunt Reese’s evasions the last time she’d brought up Jane and whether she’d seen him. She decided to go for it. You both are. Come for Christmas dinner.
It was a few minutes before Jane replied.
I can’t. I’m sorry.
His answer made Annie scowl. She didn’t care if it was immature. He was being stupid.. Fine.
I really am.
Sure.
Thank you though.
She ignored the peace offering. Whatever.
Good night, Annie.
Good night Mr. Jane.
A second later Annie had her phone in her hand again. She was going to text Dylan. He was way less stupid over the phone, even if he was a boy.
xxx
And, now it’s time for Deleted Scene #3. ‘Tis short.
xxx
Annie watched her aunt carry her box of books into the spare room and shut the door.
Her father appeared at her elbow. “Is she okay?” he asked.
Annie nodded. “She’s fine,” she assured her father. “I think she just wants to read her letter.”
“Annabeth,” her Dad said, using her full in warning. “Is there something I should know? Do I need to, I don’t know, find this Jane guy and...”
“And what, Dad?” Annie challenged. “Kick the crap out of him, defending Aunt Reese’s honour, or something equally stupid? She’d kick your ass herself if you did.”
Tommy Lisbon frowned. “Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”
Annie smirked suddenly. “Remember how you sometimes tell her to butt out of your life...”
She watched her Dad consider that. After a minute he laughed. “Okay, fine. But I still don’t like it.”
He turned to check on his pancakes. Annie took advantage of his distraction to dig up her phone. She started texting furiously.
Merry Christmas. You’re an idiot.
A few seconds later a reply appeared.
Merry Christmas to you too. Does this mean you don’t like Holmes?
Annie sighed. Idiot. My book is fine. Thank you. Aunt Reese says I’ll like it.
You will.
Speaking of Aunt Reese... Jane’s reply came almost immediately.
Yes?
Annie paused, wondering how much she should say. In the end she went with her gut. She seemed to like her books. And her brooch. She really liked that.
Good. I’m glad.
She seemed kind of upset though. Annie bit her lip. This time the answer took longer.
I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that.
This time the reply was easy. I know. But that’s why you’re an idiot.
I know.
Good, I guess. She’s reading your letter now.
Tell her there’ll be another one waiting for her when she gets back to Sacramento. And tell her I loved my present.
A second later another text from Jane appeared on the screen. And tell her Merry Christmas.
Annie scowled, suddenly unbelievably irritated at the man on the other end of the phone. Tell her yourself, she texted back angrily. With that she snapped her phone shut.
She glanced towards the closed spare room door and sighed. “I’ll go tell Aunt Reese the pancakes are almost ready,” she told her father as she stood.
Just stupid, the pair of them.
xxx
Alright, now I’m really done.